But the letter was written—­the horses were at the door; every moment he was afraid he might see Ottilie somewhere, and then his whole purpose would go to the winds.  He collected himself—­he remembered that, at any rate, he would be able to return at any moment he pleased; and that by his absence he would have advanced nearer to his wishes:  on the other side, he pictured Ottilie to himself forced to leave the house if he stayed.  He sealed the letter, ran down the steps, and sprang upon his horse.

As he rode past the hotel, he saw the beggar to whom he had given so much money the night before, sitting under the trees; the man was busy enjoying his dinner, and, as Edward passed, stood up, and made him the humblest obeisance.  That figure had appeared to him yesterday, when Ottilie was on his arm; now it only served as a bitter reminiscence of the happiest hour of his life.  His grief redoubled.  The feeling of what he was leaving behind was intolerable.  He looked again at the beggar.  “Happy wretch!” he cried, “you can still feed upon the alms of yesterday—­and I cannot any more on the happiness of yesterday!”

CHAPTER XVII

Ottilie heard some one ride away, and went to the window in time just to catch a sight of Edward’s back.  It was strange, she thought, that he should have left the house without seeing her, without having even wished her good morning.  She grew uncomfortable, and her anxiety did not diminish when Charlotte took her out for a long walk, and talked of various other things; but not once, and apparently on purpose, mentioning her husband.  When they returned she found the table laid with only two covers.  It is unpleasant to miss even the most trifling thing to which we have been accustomed.  In serious things such a loss becomes miserably painful.  Edward and the Captain were not there.  The first time, for a long while, Charlotte sat at the head of the table herself—­and it seemed to Ottilie as if she was deposed.  The two ladies sat opposite each other; Charlotte talked, without the least embarrassment, of the Captain and his appointment, and of the little hope there was of seeing him again for a long time.  The only comfort Ottilie could find for herself was in the idea that Edward had ridden after his friend, to accompany him a part of his journey.

On rising from table, however, they saw Edward’s traveling carriage under the window.  Charlotte, a little as if she was put out, asked who had had it brought round there.  She was told it was the valet, who had some things there to pack up.  It required all Ottilie Is self-command to conceal her wonder and her distress.

The valet came in, and asked if they would be so good as to let him have a drinking cup of his master’s, a pair of silver spoons, and a number of other things, which seemed to Ottilie to imply that he was gone some distance, and would be away for a long time.